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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 5:11:07 GMT
Larael sat at a small desk tucked into the corner of one of the larger rooms below the deck of the Drakonborg. She had just been looking around the various bookcases and had, to her delight, discovered several volumes on strategy and tactics. She set the smallest one, Mixed Cavalry Tactics, on the desk in front of her, and was quickly making her way from cover to cover. Fateseeker laid behind her, his head resting on the desk. Every now and again he would exhale sharply, blowing the pages of the book to get even a brief glance from his mistress.
The desk, of course, was her ideal station. She had appropriated a small crate from the deck and was currently using it as a footrest for her left leg, while her right leg was tucked under her chair. The room was otherwise occupied by a couple of trainees who were sparring, but they knew to keep enough distance as not to disturb her with the sound of combat. She was glad that her reputation as a no-nonsense officer preceded her and that they were going to be very careful not to bother her.
Delivering hit-and-run attacks, with multiple waves of attackers, against an infantry force is effective, though spears negate this advantage. It is important to note that while spears are effective at deterring cavalry attacks, they do nothing against a force of mounted archers, and men carrying two-handed polearms can easily be cut down by ranged cavalry to make room for standard mounted forces.
She glanced up at the trainees, partially to make sure that they weren't killing each other, and partially because Fateseeker had just blown the book half-shut. She shut her eyes momentarily and leaned back in the chair, throwing her hands over her head, fingers stretching to relieve the tension built up from sitting in the small wooden chair she had "borrowed."
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 5:51:15 GMT
Normally, now would be a good time to mess with the trainees working on their hand-to-hand combat. It was a good way to let off steam, and their reactions were… interesting, to say the least. But as Kerberos moved along the side of the room, he noticed something odd. The trainees were oddly subdued and clustered off to one side.
A woman studying a book sat at one of the desks on the far side of the room, a snow drake keeping her company. Moving rapidly closer, he could see scattered words on the pages as the drake snorted to get his mistress’ attention. A manual on tactics it appeared. Well well! She must have been fairly high up, since she wasn’t sparring with the trainees and spent that time reading strategies.
Eventually she leaned back in her chair, tossing her arms into the air, stretching. Her gray eyes closed, and her guard was, for the most part, down.
Quickly he slid out of the shadows, phasing back into a tangible form. Kerberos grinned, eyes gliding from the drake, to the book, to the woman. “It must be nice to relax while others do so much work. Or is this a different method of work, mental instead of physical?” A tilt of the head, eyes flicking as they studied her face. “Or perhaps this is fun, for someone of your caliber?”
A hiss and sudden clatter in his head. “Kerberos, stay your tongue. This woman may very well be a Pryfektus.”
Kerberos blinked slowly, though the woman in question might not notice nor care. “It matters not her rank, Huginn. She is human, and that’s all that matters.”
“You will find us to be your only company if you keep this up. Someone will find they need not look far for reasons to cut your tongue.”
Kerberos just smiled. So far, he had not pushed anyone to any sort of breaking point. And even if that changed, well, it was the experience that mattered.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 6:03:00 GMT
(( “It must be nice to relax while others do so much work. Or is this a different method of work, mental instead of physical?”))
Larael sat upright quickly, righting herself at the sound of a voice. She almost began with a rude, "May I -help- you?" but decided not to on the off chance one of the Vetr had personally come down to speak to her. Fateseeker growled next to her, his nostrils flaring. She touched his head gently, trying to calm him down. The trainees stopped their match for a moment to observe the conversation, drawing closer, but not close enough to provoke Larael or Fateseeker. She looked at them for a moment, then turned her attention back to whomever had snuck up on her.
((“Or perhaps this is fun, for someone of your caliber?”))
She surveyed the man in front of her. Not one of the Vetr. Not even someone she recognized. Not a surprise, though, she was hardly expected to know everyone on board. A bit rude, but perhaps he was just giving her a hard time. It wouldn't be the first time someone mistook her for an errant bookworm. "Though I find this entertaining, it is more 'important,' than 'fun.' What can I help you with?" She shut the book in front of her and stood up, using her foot to drag the borrowed crate under the table. Though she had no intention of returning it, she also had no intention of losing a perfectly good piece of appropriated furniture. Fateseeker sniffed the crate and tapped it with his front leg. Upon receiving no response from the crate, he quickly lost interest and returned his attention to the intruder.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 6:22:13 GMT
“Though I find this entertaining, it is more ‘important,’ than ‘fun.’ ”
Kerberos smiled a toothy smiled. “Both work and entertainment! A dream job, then.”
“What can I help you with?” She stood, taking the book with her. What a shame. Kerberos was hoping read the context of the words he had picked up from earlier.
Finding the question uninteresting and rather typical, Kerberos gestured dramatically to the rest of the room. “What do you suppose is the meaning of this?” he said, turning to look a trainee in the eye before turning back to the woman. “Of life? Of the behemoths raging below?” Adding more to the drama, he lowered the volume of his voice. “I hear someone said this is an ordeal sent by the gods.”
“You’ve heard no such thing.”
“Don’t ruin my fun, Muninn.” Aloud, he said, “Of course, it’s all just conjecture. But what do you think?”
It was amazing, really. People either put too much thought or not enough into their current situations, to the point where even asking them made them question their entire existences at once. But this woman seemed smart enough, just right enough, so that asking her wouldn’t cause her to implode.
Of course, if she did, that was no fault of Kerberos. Nor did Kerberos feel any need to do clean up duty in such a case. Humans could be awful messy, and with messes often come waves of vile and disgusting things. And though Kerberos was a fan of things vile and disgusting, byproducts of humanity were really not one of them.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 6:37:06 GMT
((“Both work and entertainment! A dream job, then.”))
She nodded, slowly, pushing the books around on the desk, stacking them neatly. "You could say that. I like what I do, and I do what I like. There's not much more you can ask for." Fateseeker rolled his head towards her, and she touched his nose.
((“What do you suppose is the meaning of this?” “Of life? Of the behemoths raging below?”))
She looked to the trainees, who looked fit to soil their trousers at that question. She narrowed her eyes at them. Everything is under control. She considered saying something to them, or dismissing them, but thought better of it. It will be a good test, to see how they react in the face of such a penetrating question.
((“I hear someone said this is an ordeal sent by the gods.”))
She nodded again. A question she herself had thought about, though she found herself dropping it as quickly as she picked it up each time. A hard question, indeed, but perhaps not one without an answer. Faith was never a strength of hers. It wasn't her business to think about the will of the gods. If gods came into the equation, then she might care. Until then, no such luck for the gods.
((“Of course, it’s all just conjecture. But what do you think?”))
She looked to the trainees again, who looked back at her expectantly. They want to know as badly as he does. She thought for a moment, moving the stack of books to the other side of the desk and straightening it, idling, wasting seconds to establish control of the situation. "I think that's a hard question. I also think you're asking the wrong person. If I had to guess? Perhaps a test. Perhaps a punishment. It matters not. We'll destroy the behemoths all the same. Are you out of hard questions, or are you just beginning?" A bit colder than she'd like to have been, but she needed to ensure anyone who entered her room and messed with her trainees didn't leave without at least a sound verbal whipping.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 7:15:51 GMT
“I think that's a hard question. I also think you're asking the wrong person. If I had to guess? Perhaps a test. Perhaps a punishment. It matters not. We'll destroy the behemoths all the same. Are you out of hard questions, or are you just beginning?”
Again, his head filled with chatter and buzzin. “Stand down, Kerberos.”
“She has challenged me.” Boredom flickered across his face. “Besides, I haven’t prodded anyone lately.”
“Messing with the higher-ups is not going to garner you favour…”
But that didn’t matter. Her’s was a verbal challenge, one without hint of violence. Which, for Kerberos, might as well have been an invitation to go on. Of course, Kerberos would have gone on anyway, but it’s nice to have an invitation to do so.
“A test would be an optimist’s view, wouldn’t you say? And punishment, the idea of someone much more cynical.” Kerberos grinned, leaning back on his heels. “Ah, but you, you’re a realist. Or, perhaps, an idealist. Hard to tell, really.” A glance to the trainees, their eyes so wide the whites stood out against their faces.
So young, the trainees. So naïve, too. Many would die, but what Kerberos wanted to know is how many would go willingly. The purpose of their last breath. To run or fight or beg for mercy or company. How long was the average lifespan of someone in the Drakonrhedi, anyway? He would have to look into that. Couldn’t be very long; humans were delicate little dolls.
“It’s a thin line in this situation, isn’t it?” he said. “Between realism and idealism. You can only have so much hope in this world.” He moved closer to her, making as much eye contact as possible. “Yet we keep pressing on.” His smile widened into a toothy grin. “Humans are very interesting, aren’t they?” he said, drawing out the words.
Abstract enough, really. She seemed no-nonsense, but maybe, just maybe, enough poking could elicit some sort of response. If not, oh well. Kerberos had all the time in the world to pester someone else.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 7:29:34 GMT
((“A test would be an optimist’s view, wouldn’t you say? And punishment, the idea of someone much more cynical.”))
Of course he's not done. That would be easy. She shook her head as if to clear it. "Perhaps it's both. A test, to see if we're worthy of redemption, for any number of sins our race may have committed." She looked to the trainees, who still looked scared to death. "If we persevere, we will overcome this challenge. It depends on every one of us, every last one, to do their part, to carry the day."
((“Ah, but you, you’re a realist. Or, perhaps, an idealist. Hard to tell, really.”))
She pushed the books around the desk again. She considered taking a deep breath to relax herself, but realized it would give her frustration away. She instead settled for stroking Fateseeker's head. "I much prefer realist. We all may die. But not without trying." Another glance to the trainees, "And we are going to try, right boys?" They nodded quickly.
((“It’s a thin line in this situation, isn’t it?”))
She waved a hand, dismissing that question. I have no time for games involving the meaning of words.
((“Between realism and idealism. You can only have so much hope in this world.” ))
"Hope is comforting. It allows us to accept fate, no matter how tragic it might be." She turned the stack sideways and looked at the spines of the books, primarily to show disinterest and retain maximal control over this agitating visitor. If I satisfy his questions, he will leave.
((“Humans are very interesting, aren’t they?”))
She turned the question over in her head a couple times. Humans. Interesting word choice. She considered her options for a moment. "We are very interesting indeed." She removed a volume on the Battle of Hastings, and opened it on the desk in front of her. Her eyes moved across the page, but she wasn't truly reading. An interesting visitor, indeed. Perhaps another test.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 7:54:25 GMT
“Perhaps it's both. A test, to see if we're worthy of redemption, for any number of sins our race may have committed.” Taking a third option. Leaves some interesting questions about her character. But she was not done. “If we persevere, we will overcome this challenge. It depends on every one of us, every last one, to do their part, to carry the day.”
Of course. She was making this a show for the trainees. After all, someone of a high position must save face. Pryfektus for sure. Still at, she added, “I much prefer realist. We all may die. But not without trying.” And that’s where she addressed the trainees directly. “And we are going to try, right boys?”
Kerberos frowned, unimpressed. The quick movements of the trainees suggested their agreement was out of fear of retribution than actual conviction. He couldn’t know that for sure, but it had to count for at least one of them.
“Hope is comforting. It allows us to accept fate, no matter how tragic it might be.” She faced away from him, eyeing her books. How rude. But then, not much could be said for him. “We are very interesting indeed,” she said as chose a rather hefty book on the Battle of Somethingorother. She had opened it and pretended to read before he could see the full title.
Interesting emphasis on we.
“And yet,” he began, letting a slight pause to wait for any reaction that his continued monologuing could bring. “Yet hope can drive man to his death, more often than not, searching for things that aren’t there. There has to be something else, something that drives him farther than a mere comforting concept.”
“Where do you get this stuff?” Huginn asked, mildly annoyed.
“Bullshittery is easy once you get started.”
He moved around, silently getting closer to her as she focused on pretending to focus on her book. “They say when there’s nothing left to lose, you win. And a theoretical hope would aid such a situation. But at that juncture, what’s the point?”
“If you keep hitting her over the head with meaning of life questions, she’s gonna sock you one.”
“That would be an experience.”
“One you’ve cleary had one too many a time.”
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 8:09:37 GMT
“Yet hope can drive man to his death, more often than not, searching for things that aren’t there. There has to be something else, something that drives him farther than a mere comforting concept.”
She nodded. "A fair point, though act as though hope is always for something intangible. What of a hope for a world without behemoths... something we once had?" She turned the pages, still not truly reading. She idly considered attempting to dismiss him, though she somehow doubted that it would work. Trouble had a habit of sticking to her. Perhaps this really is a test. She thought about that for a second. Of my patience, maybe. Nothing else. Just someone who doesn't know their place.
“They say when there’s nothing left to lose, you win. And a theoretical hope would aid such a situation. But at that juncture, what’s the point?”
Fateseeker growled loudly, and Larael looked up. He had moved considerably closer to her in the past fifteen seconds. She blinked, slowly. "That's quite close enough." She locked eyes with him, her gaze full of something that was not quite a cold anger but certainly not anything nice. Is he planning something? It would be bad for morale if he was. I could end him on the spot if he tried something, but it would still be terrible... a Pryfektus slaying a man gone wayward? Not happening. Not from me. She shut the book again, quite sure that pretending to read it was no longer gaining her anything. She looked to the trainees who were still crowded around. "Dismissed. Take the rest of the day off." That ought to get their minds off of what's going on in here. Should be good for them, anyway. They've been trying hard enough to impress me all day. She looked up at the mysterious agitator. "You can take the rest of the day off, too."
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 8:31:59 GMT
“A fair point, though act as though hope is always for something intangible. What of a hope for a world without behemoths... something we once had?”
And fair point returned. One that brought up a slew of things that Kerberos could spout. But before he could begin his sentence, the damn snow drake growled and she looked up at him, blinking slowly. “That’s quite close enough,” she said, locking eyes with him. The emotion there! Her intent was indecipherable, but the best he could assume was intimidation. He wondered what the feeling was when her eyes, so vivid for their gray colour, met his matte black ones. From what little he knew of her, probably nothing.
After shutting the book she wasn’t reading, she turned to the trainees. “Dismissed. Take the rest of the day off.” Kerberos followed them with his eyes as they shuffled out of the room, some quick, some slow.
“You can take the rest of the day off, too.”
Kerberos looked back at her, grinning. “Are you dismissing me?” A pause. “Or my questions?”
“I’m actually kind of hoping she hits you now.”
“And I, as well.”
A slight pout tugged on the edges of his lips. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be on my side?”
“Certainly. If we were you, we’d be preparing to take a beating.”
Just in case, Kerberos made sure there was a spring in his step, his arms ready to guard, and his jaw posed to lock. He would be ready for pretty much anything. Except maybe the snow drake. Nobody expects the snow drake, or, rather, capable of figuring out how to defend against the snow drake.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 8:46:34 GMT
“Are you dismissing me?” "Or my questions?”
She shut her eyes momentarily. That's it. Keep pushing me. A moment passed. Let the inner storm settle. She regained her composure for a fraction of a second, then looked up at him, her features utterly bereft of amusement. "You are dismissed. Though free to leave," She sat down again, leaning back just a tiny bit in the chair, "...I imagine you won't be leaving."
Larael pushed the crate back out, putting her feet up, "As much as I want to dismiss your questions, and it's fully within my power, you have my permission to speak freely." He will leave when he's satisfied, or when he realizes he will be unable to get me angry. Embrace the anger, concentrate it, and let it go. Fateseeker looked at her, baring teeth. She could tell he wanted to tear into this stranger, but she shook her head very slightly, and he returned his head to the desk, looking up at the interloper with a similar indifference. She stroked Fateseeker's head, and it might be noticed that they seemed to be drawing strength from each other. Next batch of trainees should come in here within the hour. She pushed some hair out of her face, and looked up at the stranger.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 9:09:31 GMT
Her eyes closed briefly. When they opened, her face fell flat, devoid of emotion. “You are dismissed. Though free to leave… I imagine you won’t be leaving.” She sat herself down in the chair, appearing to make herself comfortable. How interesting. Acceptance of this delinquent behaviour? No, there had to be another reason she was putting up with this.
“As much as I want to dismiss your questions, and it's fully within my power, you have my permission to speak freely.” Oh, yes, there was definitely another reason why she was letting him stay. If he needed yet another hint, her snow drake bared its teeth in a threat display, but her fingers calmly trailed over its head.
So what was it? And how could he coax it out of her? He carefully crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly, watching her. Now having permission to speak made it… oddly difficult. Go figure.
As a result, it came out a bit less smoothly than intended. “If there were no behemoths, where do you suppose you’d be?” He looked up at the ceiling, his smile softening. “I’d travel the world, I think.” A soft chortle escaped him. “Travel it more in depth, I mean.”
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 27, 2013 9:24:11 GMT
“If there were no behemoths, where do you suppose you’d be?”
Oh, hell. Larael had, of course, considered this before. She had been asked that question many times over her life. She nodded quickly, "I imagine I'd be busy making myself useful somewhere else. Perhaps an officer in a normal military, rather than this one." Not that there's anything wrong with this one. I like it just fine. She stroked the snow drake again, and it made a sound akin to purring.
“I’d travel the world, I think.”
She nodded again, this time slowly. "That might not be bad. I've read a lot about the countries of old." She wondered if he read. She wondered if he could read. She assumed he could. Come on. Any minute now that next group's gonna come in and the officer there is gonna bail me out... I hope. She found herself thinking about the conversation about hope she had with this interloper. She shook her head. Not the time to think about that. Focus on getting him to go away. You can mull this all over later. She leaned forwards, looking up at him with her trademark indifference.
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Post by Kerberos the Subversive on Dec 27, 2013 20:36:19 GMT
“I imagine I'd be busy making myself useful somewhere else. Perhaps an officer in a normal military, rather than this one.”
Kerberos let out a disapproving exhale, scowling from disappointment, and spun on the balls of his feet to draw distance between them. How droll! And he thought she might be different. No imagination, despite the suggestion of intelligence. Then again, it’s all she probably knows.
“That might not be bad. I've read a lot about the countries of old.”
Ah, there it was. He turned back to her, grin sliding back into place. The indifference on her face. Did that mean she was only playing with him? It didn’t matter. If that was the case, he would play right back. “And do you wonder what that’s like?” he asked, his voice turning to an oily smoothness. He moved back towards her, closing the gap he had made just five seconds ago. “What it would be like to walk the streets of Rome, to be a part of Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as a parade roars down the avenue, ‘Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.’ To stand at attention under the shadow of Westminster Abbey and cry out, in the same voice as so many before you, ‘God save the queen!’ Don’t you ever wonder?”
He didn't expect much from her, but he watched her face with careful attention anyway. Humans were unpredictable, and as such he hoped, eventually, that this one would surprise him.
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Post by Larael Astriddottir on Dec 28, 2013 2:01:42 GMT
She watched without interest as he danced away, staring after him without amusement. When he turned back, she steepled her fingers in front of her, her wrists on the desk.
“And do you wonder what that’s like?”
Larael shook her head. Here we go again. "It is not my business to wonder. I am of action, not wonder. I have learned about the nations of old, and that is enough for me." She had no business wishing for a reality that, at this time, was not to be. A world without behemoths was a world where she needed to find a new purpose, though she often saw herself in, as she had said, another military. He raises a good question -- What would the world be like if the behemoths never came?
“What it would be like to walk the streets of Rome, to be a part of Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as a parade roars down the avenue, ‘Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.’ To stand at attention under the shadow of Westminster Abbey and cry out, in the same voice as so many before you, ‘God save the queen!’ Don’t you ever wonder?"
Another shake of her head. Her expression became very slightly angrier. She was becoming unsure whether or not he was pestering her for answers or for his personal gratification. He's not going to leave me alone. He's going to keep bothering me. "Again, I deal in strategy and results, not in wonder." She reopened the book on Hastings and began to read it from the beginning, "Now, you're free to take the day off, but I'd like to you to leave your name and rank with me before you go." This intrusion needs to be punished. Not harshly, but I'd like to see him cleaning the drake stalls.
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